


A Small Kindness

by Lady_Therion



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Elriel, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 17:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion
Summary: (Modern AU) All Elain wants is some peace, quiet, and a cup of coffee.





	A Small Kindness

The first thing Elain noticed was the crowds.

The Black Rose wasn’t usually this full—not even during finals. Though she supposed it was only a matter of time before her favorite coffee shop would be discovered. Especially when the management hired two new male baristas to draw in those crowds.  

They were the second thing Elain noticed.

It was a little hard not to.

“Idiot,” muttered Nesta.

Elain glanced at the source of Nesta’s irritation: tall and tan with night-dark hair swept back from his face in a haphazard knot. His features were wild and rough-hewn, and the grin he flashed was both vicious and charming. The kind that invited flirtations and fistfights. He winked saucily at every customer who left him a tip—which was all of them. There were a few people in line who had cut ahead of them to order seconds.

Which did nothing to douse Nesta’s ire.

But it was the other barista that drew Elain’s full attention.

He was beautiful. There was really no other way to describe it. He was beautiful in the same way a cold winter night was beautiful. His gaze reminded her of shadows at dusk—patient and penetrating. She had a feeling that no detail, however small, could ever escape those eyes of his.

But it wasn’t his eyes that made Elain blush when he waved her over to his register.

It was the scars on his hands. The twisted masses of tissue that covered them so thoroughly that they were impossible to ignore. There was a history there, she thought, a story about survival. And rather than feeling frightened, Elain felt inexplicably drawn to it...

“Peppermint mocha with whip,” he said quietly.

Elain tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m guessing you want a peppermint mocha with whip—and a gingersnap cookie,” he said, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

She didn’t know whether to be affronted….or impressed. It was exactly what she wanted on that cold December day.

“No need to show off, Azriel,” said the other barista. The nametag on his broad chest read _Cassian._ “You won’t be going home with her number.”

“Neither will you,” growled Nesta, sidling up to the register right next to them.

Elain reddened. “Nesta, please.”

But Cassian looked about as smug as a cat that found another cat to annoy. Except Nesta was no ordinary cat—she was a jungle predator in heels and designer jeans.  

“A little jealous, sweetheart?” asked Cassian.

Nesta’s resulting glare could have frozen water, but Cassian’s grin only widened in a way that was sure to make her see red.

“Just the usual, Nes?”  

Her sister grimaced. “I told you not to call me that.”

Azriel shared a pointed look with Elain. She had no idea Cassian and Nesta already knew each other...

After a heated exchange that could only be described as bickering, Cassian rung up Nesta’s order. Although her sister’s grumbling only intensified when she realized her black coffee had the word ‘Nes’ scrawled on the front of the styrofoam cup—along with a sloppily drawn heart and what looked to be Cassian’s number.

Azriel wore an expression of wry amusement as he rung up Elain’s own order.  

“This one’s on me,” he said, when he handed it over.

There was no time to protest. The line of customers behind them were already leveling impatient—and somewhat miffed—looks in their direction.

And though Azriel hadn’t asked for her name, she saw that he had drawn it in neat and elegant script.

 _For Elain_...

* * *

“He’s insufferable,” said Nesta, as they walked back across the quad.

Frost clung to the threadbare grass as a cruel wind blew across the lake, prompting them to hurry into the lobby of Elain’s dormitory.

“It’s because he likes you,” said Elain, causing Nesta to scoff as she walked her to the elevator. “I take it this isn’t the first time he’s given you his number?”

Nesta didn’t respond, but the way her mouth tightened said enough.

“You could always go somewhere else,” said Elain. “The Black Rose isn’t the only coffeeshop on campus.”

“True,” said Nesta, her posture remaining rigid.

And that was the end of that.

They said their brief goodbyes at Elain’s door, Nesta mentioning that she would pick up Feyre from the airport tomorrow morning.

Their little family would be together again for the holidays and while that should have filled her with no small amount of joy, she couldn’t seem to muster any. And on the heel of that thought came guilt.

She sat at her desk: a wild of array of markers, unfinished term papers, and a stack of near-overdue library books facing her. Morning bled into the afternoon and the afternoon bled into night and somehow Elain was caught in a limbo of having done so much and yet nothing at all...

She should be trying harder; catch up on all the things she had missed. She was a hair’s breadth away from probation, the fate of her GPA hanging in the balance after a long and extended break.

But instead, her thoughts drifted elsewhere—specifically, to the photograph she kept at her right-hand side.

She didn’t know why she kept it. Feyre and Nesta insisted that she throw it in the trash, with the latter offering to set it on fire. But even though her relationship with Graysen was effectively over, she still couldn’t bring herself to throw away their engagement photo.

There he was, in black and white, kneeling in the community rose garden as he slipped his mother’s ring onto her finger. And there she was, crying with tears of joy as she told him “a thousand times yes.”

Their story was supposed to be a fairy tale.

They were supposed to get a happy ending.

Now all Elain had left were the jagged edges of broken dreams and a layer of disappointments that clung to her like foul residue. It had been nothing short of painful—and humiliating—to recall all those invitations, cancel the venue, return the dress…

_Send back the ring..._

Time. She had lost so much time. Time that had been taken away from her studies, her internship, her grad school applications—her future.

_What future?_

Elain leaned back in her chair, dark thoughts swirling around her like bits of ash. She wished she were more like her sisters. Strong, brave, resilient. All their lives, they were like two stars that burned brightly in the night sky while she remained earthbound.

And she had been fine with that...until now.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her things and put on an extra coat.

Brooding, she decided, left a bitter taste in her mouth. A bitter taste that could be easily washed away by more cups of coffee. If her rabid thoughts were going to keep her up all night, she might as well keep them at bay by going somewhere else.

* * *

It was past midnight when the Black Rose had finally emptied out, leaving Elain with the peace and quiet she had so desperately sought. That she could stay at such a late hour was also one of the many reasons Elain enjoyed it here. There weren’t many independent coffee shops left that could be open twenty-four seven.

She had chosen one of the more secluded spots on the second floor: a bay window with cushioned seating and throw blankets. Her lap was a scattering of charts, graphs, index cards, and highlighted textbooks. And despite the falling snow against the chilled glass panes, she had stripped off her sweatshirt hours ago—the fireplace in the corner providing more than enough warmth. She thought about going downstairs to get more coffee, but was far too settled and cozy to do so.

“Mind if I join you?”

Elain nearly jumped out of her skin as Azriel appeared at her side, ninja-quiet like as though he had popped out of thin air.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly.

“No, it’s all right.” She smiled. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be upstairs?”  

He shrugged. “There’s no one here but you and me. And even if there was, I’d hear the bell.”

Elain looked at him then— _really_ looked. The messy crop of hair, as dark as ink, swallowing up all the nearby light. The classically beautiful lines of his solemn face. His keen, almost preternatural, hazel eyes...

There was something remote about him, she thought. Something unreachable, like the watery depths beneath a frozen lake.

Who were they to one another right now?

Just two strangers seeking company and kindness in the dark...

So she made room for him on the other end of the window seat while he handed her a mug of hot chocolate.

“You’re very kind,” she said.

“Not to everyone,” he said, a wry smile on his face.

For a moment, Elain wondered what it would like if he _truly_ smiled. If his expression wasn’t  haunted by whatever burdens he was carrying deep inside.

Elain decided that it would be breathtaking.

“I guess I’m pretty lucky,” she said, sipping her hot chocolate—he even added the right amount of marshmallows.

Again, that ghost of a smile graced Azriel’s lips.

They sat together for a few moments of companionable silence, watching the snow drift and swirl outside, the fire crackling merrily on the other side of the room.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“How did I know what?”

“My name,” said Elain. “My order...how did you know?”

He was so still that Elain was sure that he was resisting the urge to fidget. She wasn’t accusing him, however. She genuinely wanted to know.

“I...overheard from the management that you used to be a regular,” he said. “They said you were one of their favorites and that you’ve been gone for awhile.” She swallowed. “They also told me what you preferred and then...I made a guess.”

_A guess?_

She replayed the events of this morning in her mind—dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression...

Elain’s mouth quirked. “Hmm. That’s not the full story though, is it?”

His face were impassive, but she could have sworn there was a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes when he said, “What makes you say that?”

“It’s a little odd that you would do that for someone you don’t know.”

“Can’t someone be kind for the sake of being kind?”

“It’s not your kindness I doubt,” said Elain, still smirking. “It’s your motive.”

His brows furrowed by the barest of fractions.

“Nesta and...Cassian,” said Elain, casting their names between them like two chess pieces. “My guess is that you’ve been watching them go at each other’s throats for awhile. My guess is that you and Cassian must be very close, close enough that you want to know more about my cranky sister—who I’m guessing isn’t giving you the best impression.”

“None of those things are...untrue,” he said.

“My guess is that Cassian can’t stop thinking about my sister. My guess is that he’s _crazy_ about her. That he looks forward to seeing her everyday, hoping that she’ll come in. He doesn’t know how to talk to her, that much is clear. So you wanted to help. But rather than talk to her, my guess is that you thought it would be much easier to talk to me. Because I’m…”

She bit her lip at the word _pushover_.

It was one of the few choice insults Graysen hurled at her when she chose to end things. _A pushover_ . For listening to what her sisters said about him, for choosing _them_ over being a part of his family...

“Because you’re also kind,” Azriel finished for her. “And clever. I had no doubts about either of those things.”

It was the second time he made her blush that day.

He inclined his head. “I apologize for having an ulterior motive. But Cassian is as important to me as Nesta is to you. He’s my brother in everything but blood. He’s the one that got me this job when I have little useful skills to offer. And yes, your sister is...challenging.”

Elain giggled.

“But honestly, I think that’s why Cassian finds her so appealing.” He folded his arms. “So I hope you don’t mind that I was trying to learn more...with the added benefit of getting to know you in the process.”

“Well,” said Elain, trying not to fluster. “I’m glad that’s all out in the open then.”

“Indeed.”

She bit her lip. “Though I do have to ask…”

“Yes?” he said, sensing her hesitation.  

Elain paused. “I think it’s only fair that you tell me all that you can about Cassian, if I’m going to be telling you all I can about Nesta. If my hunch is right—and it usually is—I have a funny feeling that I’ll be seeing more of him in the future. And not just at the Black Rose.”

Again, that glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes. “Fair enough. It’s a bargain.”

“Let’s shake on it.”

She could see the reluctance, the wariness that overcame him like the shadows on the walls. But still...still, he considered her. Considered her in a way that she had not been considered in a long time.

She held out her hand and, after a few moments, Azriel held out his.

His beautiful, scarred fingers were oddly gentle when they clasped hers.

* * *

December hurtled past in a flurry of endings; a hastily composed song of of last-minute cramming and last-chance assignments that was building towards an explosive crescendo.

For most people, that crescendo was winter break. The weeks of pure bliss that would release them from the academic madness of it all. But for Elain, the break was anything but a reprieve.

Although she believed her family deeply loved one another, being sequestered under the same roof was nothing short of strenuous. College (or in Nesta’s case, grad school) had provided the much needed distance to...appreciate each other’s presence more. Reuniting then became an act of adjustment. Nothing at all like the tender holiday scenes that were painted in Christmas songs.

Every day was filled with near unbearable tension—with Nesta and Feyre being especially _charming_ to one another. Elain could barely stand their constant quarreling over the dinner table, their long-held resentments bubbling over like hot water, the endless cycle of truces and half-enthusiastic compromises that came after.

Even worse than the things that they _did_ argue about, were the things that were never mentioned. Namely, her fiance.

_Ex-fiance._

So after dinner, Elain would retreat—not to her dorm, which would have remained empty as the rest of her classmates returned home. But to the Black Rose where she could find at least _one_ silver lining every night in Azriel’s company.

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t seem to mind.

“Your sisters mean well,” he told her, after a particularly fraught evening. “My brothers are also very...passionate. When _they_ squabble, things actually break.”

“They do not!”

“We’ve had to replace our dining table three times now…”

Elain was glad her sisters were so busy trying to establish dominance that they rarely questioned where she was going. And her father...she didn’t want to think too much about her father.  

She could only imagine what Nesta’s reaction would be if she knew _why_ Elain was meeting with Azriel in the first place.

She had shared as many details as she could about her older sister—her likes, her dislikes...though nothing too personal or candid. Azriel, in return, shared as many details as he could about his brother.

Or rather, foster brother.

The both of them ad been raised by the mother of a friend named Rhysand—who also became their brother by default. And if Nesta and Feyre fought like alley cats, then Rhys and Cassian had fought like two wolf cubs trying to carve out their own territory.

“But they got along eventually, right?” asked Elain.

Azriel shook his head. “They hated each other even long after I arrived. Cassian took a liking to me immediately—which I think made Rhys both wary and jealous. It was a while before the three of us got ourselves sorted out. We must have drove Rhys’ mother out of her mind.”

Elain knew a little something of that, especially with Feyre. How her younger sister looked with envy—and longing—at the way Nesta would soften for Elain and no one else.

Midnight after midnight passed. And soon they talked about everything. Not just about their siblings, but about themselves. Their heartbreaks. Their scars. Both seen and unseen.

Her heart clenched the night he told her about his half-brothers. What they did to his hands. The abuse he suffered before Rhys’ mother rescued him from that darkness. It was one of the many secrets he shared with her that felt as precious as gold. Elain had the feeling that he never shared these things with anyone. Perhaps not even his brothers. That he would do so with her was...wonderful, _thrilling_ even.

She could not have predicted growing this close with another person in such a short amount of time. What began as a mere trickle in a stream suddenly grew like the currents of a river. She was almost shocked at how easy it felt to be attuned to each other’s rhythms. As though they had known each other for years. All their lives, even.

This...development between them didn’t go unnoticed by others either.

There was one evening at the Black Rose where they were approached by a group of freshman girls, each one of them smiling in the kind of manic way that made Azriel grip Elain’s hand under the table.

“We just wanted to say that we think you guys make _the cutest_ couple!”

“Oh my god, yes! How long have you been dating?”

It was the first time Elain had seen Azriel stammer.

It was also the first time Elain seriously considered asking him on an actual date.

So the next night, she did.

“Please,” she said, after a few moments of horribly awkward silence. There was so much hope contained in that single word ‘please.’ That word alone held the entire world; her entire heart. 

Azriel, however, seemed to stunned to respond. As though he had never seen her before. In fact the only word he managed to say was, “Why?”

Elain swallowed. _It wasn’t a no_.

“I know we’ve only known each other a short time,” she said. “But I feel like I’ve known you forever. You _see_ me, Azriel. And I see you too...and I...I want to know more.”

Another stunned pause.

And then a kiss.

He leaned into her, almost pushing her against the corner of what became _their_ spot—the little bay window where everything had began.

He brushed his lips against hers. It was cautious, but sweet. She closed her eyes, wanting to carve that moment into her memory forever.

When she opened them, she decided she wanted more.

So when he brushed another kiss against the seam of her mouth, she captured his tongue. He groaned as she began to tease him, to urge him to let go, to play with her. And he did—eagerly, almost shaking as they continued this beautiful game of give and take.

He smiled at her when they finally broke apart, and her heart nearly stopped.

Because she was right—it _was_ breathtaking. The most breathtaking thing she had ever seen.

“Dinner tomorrow?” he murmured hotly against her ear. “My place?”

“Just dinner?” she asked, heart racing.

He laced his fingers with hers.

“It could be whatever you want it to be.”  

She grinned. “What if I wanted it be a date?”

He still hadn’t said yes, technically.

“Then it’s a date,” he said, and sealed their bargain with another kiss.  

* * *

Of course, Elain had to ruin everything.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” chided Azriel.

She fought the urge to wince as he gently prodded her ankle, an ankle that began swelling not long after she had _slipped on the ice_ right outside his apartment.

Azriel had rushed to meet her in flurry of panic when he saw her fall, then scooped her up in his arms when she realized that she couldn’t walk without flinching.  

“Hold on tight,” he had said, coaxing her to loop her arms around his neck.

His muscles were corded and tense, like he was shielding her from enemy fire instead of taking her up the staircase. He looked so serious about it too—asking her if he was going too fast, if he was jolting her in any way. It was all so romantic and chivalrous and if Elain wasn’t gritting her teeth against the pain, she would have joked about knights and swooning…

As things stood she was too mortified to say much of anything.

There was no elevator in his building and Azriel lived on the eighth floor, but he carried her the entire way there without pausing or breaking a sweat. Being held this way...she never realized how small she was, or how safe she felt when she was with him.

Without thinking, she buried her nose in his shirt, taking in as much of that clean, _male_ scent as she could. She could have sworn she heard a satisfied rumble coming from deep within his chest.

He was so _strong..._

He unlocked his door and set her gently on his couch. And when he rolled up the hem of her skirt, she wished she had worn something more alluring than wool-knit socks with a dinosaur pattern.

“I like them,” he said, as if sensing her embarrassment. “They’re cute.”

“You’re just saying that.”

But when he leaned up to kiss her, she forgot to be self-conscious. She forgot how to breathe.

“I like _you_ ,” he told her. “And I’m not just saying that.”  

He brought her a pack of ice and then her dinner—which he cooked himself. He was fussing and fretting and Elain couldn’t decide if she found it adorable or overwhelming. But when she finished his food, she decided on the former. Because his expression of pride and gratitude was enough to make her heart ache.

“How’s your ankle?”

“It’s okay,” she said, even though Azriel kneeled before her to inspect it himself.

“The swelling’s gone down a bit,” he said. “You probably sprained it, so you’ll need to take it easy for the next few days.”

He looked up at her, his gaze focused and intense.

Just the sight of him there, between her legs, was enough to make her mouth go dry...and other places wet.

“Are you feeling better?” he said, quietly—his beautiful hands suddenly gliding up the back of her calves. The roughness of his scars made her shiver in delight, distracting her to the point where he had to ask her again.

“You can kiss it and make it better,” she blurted, cheeks flaming. She had never asked for anything so boldly—not even with Graysen.

“Oh?” he said, his voice low and rough. It was a wonder that she didn’t melt against the throw pillows.

Slowly, gently, he kissed the skin of her ankle. Just a feather-light greeting to let her know he was there.

Then she told him to go higher.

He paused, his eyes darkening into a burnished gold that made her spread her knees apart. 

“Elain…”

He was asking for permission, she realized. As if her increasingly shallow breathing and heaving bosom weren’t enough. She swallowed, then said, “I want you to.”  

And that was all Azriel needed to hear before he left a agonizingly slow trail of kisses from her ankles, to her knees—first one, then the other—before lifting up her skirt entirely.

Elain gasped at the suddenness of being bared to him, thankful that her choice in panties weren’t as quirky as her choice in socks.

Azriel seemed more than appreciative of them too. Because when he dipped his nose in that most secret place, he took his time licking a long and indulgent stripe through the pink lace fabric. And if Elain thought she was wet before, she was positively _drenched_ by the time he pulled her panties aside to taste her.

The noises she made were the very essence of primal. As was her death-grip in Azriel’s hair when he made her come two, three, _four_ times with nothing but his wicked tongue. He liked to use his whole mouth, feasting on her like a starving man faced with a delicious banquet. 

Because his tongue kept swiping, exploring, savoring, lingering until Elain could barely stand it. She began to dig her fingers into his shoulders. He seemed to like it when she began to claw helplessly at his back.  

It was the sweetest form of torture.  

She told him she had never, ever felt like this.

“Oh Elain,” he said, breaking away from her to wipe his mouth. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Then he carried her still quivering body into his bedroom and closed the door behind them.

* * *

The next morning, Elain woke up tangled in a bed that wasn’t her own, snuggled against a body that made her feel like nothing but the two of them existed. Azriel held her close, his nose buried in the crook of her neck like he couldn’t bear to let her go.  

They woke each other with soft touches and slow kisses—kisses that grew more hungry with each passing moment. She ground herself against him, needing to feel his hardness. He growled playfully as he rolled her over, mindful of her ankle, and nipping at her ear in a way that made her squeal (which made him smile against her skin).

She wanted him to take her again. And he wanted to oblige.

Unfortunately, their reverie was interrupted by the frantic buzzing on both their phones.

It was Cassian and Nesta...wondering where they were that morning and when they were planning on showing themselves.

They both groaned as they sent back placating (if not disgruntled) messages, telling them where they were, and shrugging off the inevitable consequences of openly admitting that they had spent the night together.

“They’re never going to let us hear the end of this,” said Azriel, throwing his phone onto the carpet below.

He wanted to pick up where they left off, and decided the best place to start was her neck.

“I know,” said Elain, half-moaning when Azriel made his way to the space between her breasts. “But I could really...care less right now.”  

He murmured in agreement as his tongue brushed against her navel—ready for round two. Or was it round three?  

They needed no more words for the exquisitely blissful moments that followed. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading my loves :)


End file.
